


Reminders

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-29
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 23:13:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Alfred wanted was to give his boyfriend a surprise birthday visit. All Arthur wanted was to get out and clear his mind. An unexpected encounter in the rain, reminiscence and taking care of Alfred. USUK One-shot, with hints of PruCan and SpaMano. Slight fluff. Re-posted and re-vamped from my FF.N account.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reminders

**Reminders**

_By Chiara Alice Vargas_  
Hetalia is owned by Hidekaz Himaruya and I am in no way affiliated to it. I’m sure you know that by now. De-weebified and re-vamped last 4/30/2013. Mirror post at FF.N.  
________________________________________

The rain was ceaselessly pouring outside - it had been like this for days. Arthur was inside, enjoying his Earl Grey tea like any other day. It was cold in his house, and the telly was on. He was curled up in the duvet covers he had brought from his room. He started to have a headache, so he turned off the telly and drank his tea. Gently placing the porcelain cup on its saucer, even its resounding clink echoed in his house. It was far too quiet, and he was alone.

The rain always gave him headaches, regardless if he had been wet by it or not. Just the sight and smell of the downpour made him uncomfortable. Because the rain — it was a reminder of him, a reminder for him, on that day. It was the same weather, the same feeling. It was expected that the rain would continue for days. Normally, it would be cloudy here in London, gloomy and unreachable by the sunlight. But the rain was not common, especially one that has lasted for days and days on end. It wasn't a hurricane or anything, it was just rain. It didn't flood either, because it was in constant amount. There weren't any sudden flashes of downpour or sudden changes into light drizzling.

Arthur decided to get out of his stuffy house. Maybe it was what he needed to keep his mind off the depressing weather. He sat up from the sofa, stretched a little, tossed a jacket over his body and took the car keys from the side-table. He locked his house and headed out to his tiny car that Alfred had never ceased to tease. Alfred's car was a minivan, designed to hold many, as expected for someone who liked to drag his friends into outings. Arthur had a tiny, worn-out five-seater, which frankly, the three extra seats he could do without.

He drove under the horrible weather condition, keeping his eyes on the road. He didn't turn on the car stereo in fear of getting distracted and pulled into a disaster.

He stopped by the nearby grocery, keeping in mind what he needed to buy. He headed to the usual dairy section, plonked a container of cream cheese into his basket, and then grabbed a loaf of bread. He took some ham, and lettuce. He simply had a craving for ham sandwiches at the moment, but he didn't know why. He took a carton of milk and proceeded to the express lane. He had less than twelve items. The whole point of this trip was to escape from the stuffy enclosed space of his house, but the more time he spent outside, the more he wanted to go back.

He paid for his purchase and drove off. The rain had gotten stronger, and it made it harder to see. Driving past the park, he saw a figure stumble and collapse underneath a tree. He pulled over the park's curb, making sure no police officers were in sight lest he would merit himself a ticket.

The figure began to stir and stood up, brushing his hair with his fingers. His clothes were caked with fresh mud and dirt. Arthur peered at him to see his face and was struck by a huge wave of recognition and realization — the figure was...  
________________________________________

"What the bloody hell are you doing here, Alfred?" The tone of disbelief and anger was drowned by the sound of rapid water falling down in the form of precipitation.

"I... I wanted to pay you a surprise visit, Arthur, it was your birthday and..." He trailed off, his face clearly showing the shock of being found by Arthur of all places, and in the rain.  
They were standing facing each other, Arthur looking at him in disbelief, disbelief at his appearance in London, disbelief at his stupidity. Alfred's eyes were staring blankly; remembering... but Arthur's voice snapped him out of his stupor.

"You could have _called_ me, and I could have at least picked you up! Look at you, you're such a mess!" He yelled, but over the sound of the rain, it sounded normal to Alfred.

"It was supposed to be a _surprise_." He rolled his eyes and emphasised the word 'surprise', as if he was calmly trying to explain to a three-year-old.

"How did you get into this situation anyway?" He asked.

"I sort of got lost..." He laughed mildly.

"Bleeding... Couldn't you have taken a cab? And you've been to my house several times already, so you should have known the way!" Arthur frowned, his hands on his hips, his wet fringes plastered to his forehead.

Alfred merely shrugged. This annoyed Arthur more.

"Come on, get in the car. You're going to catch more than just a cold." He flung the door open and shoved Alfred inside.  
He sat inside the driver's seat and grumbled. Now his car seats were wet, thanks to Alfred. Heaving a sigh, he stepped on the pedal and drove home.  
________________________________________

He stopped and parked in the open garage, stepped out, made Alfred leave his shoes on the balcony and stepped inside. He peeled off his wet clothes, leaving the boxers alone and discarded them beside the door. Alfred did the same and tossed them onto an opposite pile. Arthur remembered to get them in the wash later. He went upstairs, inside his room and wordlessly tossed Alfred a towel.

Alfred knew what Arthur wanted him to do, as Arthur went inside the master bedroom's bathroom and slammed the door behind him. He was absolutely annoyed at Alfred, although he can't quite place it.

Alfred looked in the rooms and saw another bathroom, although it only held a shower partition and a sink with a toilet beside it, it was considerably smaller than the bathroom he saw Arthur enter. He removed his boxers and Texas, his eyeglasses. He then set the water to hot, hoping Arthur had left him some. He hoped the water was scalding hot; he didn't want to catch a cold, especially not a fever.

The hot water streamed against his toned body, making him sigh in content and satisfaction. He closed his eyes and put a hand on the wall, to support him. He felt like he was about to collapse any minute. He remembered when Arthur found him; he had stared at Arthur blankly, as if he had remembered something. _Did he remember it as well? It seemed like déjà vu..._ he asked himself.

He searched for any soap and shampoo, and luckily, Arthur was kind enough to leave a bottle of shampoo and some nondescript soap. Apparently, Arthur had not really expected his next guest would be Alfred, because if he had, there'd totally be no soap or shampoo waiting for him in the guest bathroom.

He rubbed the shampoo onto his scalp, and ran the soap all over his body. The shampoo dissatisfied him; he liked his shampoo really foamy. Arthur had taken the liberty of stocking the guest bathroom with nondescript shampoo, as well.

He dried himself off, and wrapped a towel over his lower body. Putting Texas back over his eyes, his vision cleared. He went to Arthur's room and knocked thrice.

"It's open." He called out.

"Arthur…" Alfred started when he opened it. He merely peeked inside the room; he didn't go in just yet.

"What do you want?" His voice was annoyed and weary; he looked at him with his green eyes, slightly frowning.

"D-D'you have any clothes?" He said.

Arthur only had fresh boxers on, although they looked the same as the boxers he had on before. He had a white towel slung over his shoulder, and he was standing in front of his clothes cabinet.

"I'll check." He turned away from him, and then he began to talk. "Didn't you have any luggage when you came here?" he said.

"I did, but I left them in my hotel suite."

"You had a bloody hotel suite, and you decided to go out to the streets of London while it was raining crazy? Are you brainless or what?" He snapped.

"I..." Even he couldn't find any comeback to this.

He doesn't really know why he went out in the rain. All he knew was that he wanted to see Arthur as soon as possible and that with the rate the rain was going, it would never stop, so he might as well take chances. It was a crazy, strange, stupid impulse.

"I got dropped off by the cab in the wrong place, but I realized it when it was too late. Since then no cabs went my way, and I figured I should just look for your house on my own." he answered in a whisper, waiting for Arthur to snap at him again for being an idiot.

"No one would really drive in this kind of weather, so it was only expected that you didn't manage to hail a cab. However, you still acted in the most idiotic manner possible and that if you get sick because of what you did, I would not take responsibility in taking care of you and only request that you get your bloody arse out of here as to not spread the virus around my house." He bluntly said and plucked a long sleeve polo shirt from the closet and a vest, and slacks.

"Relax, I'm not getting sick anyti—" He paused and, "Achoo!"

Arthur rolled his eyes. Now the idiot's sick. Serves him right for being such a fool.

"S-Sorry..." Alfred grinned at him, his hand on the back of his head.

"Git. Lie down on the bed," He walked over and placed a palm on his head and his own, to compare temperatures.

"I-I'm not sick! I'm okay!" Alfred protested, but Arthur ignored him.

"Your temperature..." He searched the inside of his night table for some paracetamol and a thermometer. He shoved the thermometer in Alfred's mouth and shot down any attempts made by him to talk in between temperature-taking.

"Thirty-nine point five." The statement gained him a puzzled look on the other end.

"That would be around a hundred and three degrees Fahrenheit for you." He said, suddenly remembering that Alfred was not used to Celsius and was too lazy to mentally compute for it. He clicked his tongue, a look of disapproval, he took a face towel from a drawer and went to the bathroom and wet it. He wrung it and folded it to be placed over Alfred's forehead.

"A-Arthur, there's no need to babysit me like this, I've been enough trouble for a day..." He tried to sit up, only to be pushed down by Arthur. He sneezed and looked up at Arthur.

"Stay there, boy. I guess I'll have to put up with you for the time being."

"N-No, really, just drop me off in my hotel room, I can manage by myself." He insisted.

"How many bloody times do I have to say no?" he gritted his teeth. "What if I did drop you off there and when I had gone, you'd just collapse on the floor? Who'd look after you? Do  
you expect to get better without anyone being there for you? What if it turns for the worse? You keep shutting people out, when they actually want to help you!" His voice rose.  
Alfred flinched at the volume and tone of his voice.

"It's no different from before." he finished weakly, turning away.

"You just told me a while ago that you 'would not take responsibility in taking care of you and only request that' I 'get my bloody arse out of here as to not spread the virus' in your house." he repeated his words at him, saying those words in an awful British impression.

"Don't spit my words back at me!" He growled.

"It's what you said earlier!" He defiantly answered.

"You don't have to repeat it to my face word for word!" He had no idea as to why he was so livid. This was Alfred, anyway. Whatever Alfred does manages to annoy him somehow.

"Well, you don't have to take care of me if you don't want to. In fact, I didn't ask for it." He said, words coming out harsher than expected.

"You ungrateful—" He banged a glass of water and a paracetamol tablet down the nightstand, turned on his heel, and slammed the door behind him, seething. Alfred turned to call him back, but that would just be adding fuel to the fire.  
________________________________________

_Who does he think he is? I'm already helping him, so what is he complaining about? He said to himself, as he scooped his and Alfred's wet clothes from the floor and dumped it in the laundry basket to be brought to the laundromat later._

Making his way into the kitchen, he poured water into the kettle and set it over the stove. He picked up a book, and started reading it, waiting for the water to boil. When the kettle let out a shrill whistle, he took a cup and saucer, laid it on the table and poured the hot water. Dropping the teabag, he waited for the tea to cool. He continued reading the next few paragraphs of the chapter, until he decided that the tea would be cool enough. He took a sip and put his feet up, his mind calming down after that little incident in his  
bedroom.

 _Alfred made the stupidest decisions. And it was usually me who had to pay for it. That war, that choice he made. I had to suffer alongside him._ He thought. _No, enough of that. Stop. It's been two-hundred and thirty-six years. Get over it._

Quite absorbed in the book, he had not noticed time slipping by. Two hours and thirty minutes came and went; the silent ticking of the clock was his only companion.  
________________________________________

"Arthur?" A voice made him look up from his book.

"What?" His voice was a demanding one, he wanted to get this conversation over with quickly before his temper ran short again.

"A-Are you mad at me?"

"What are you doing up anyway? Did I not tell you to stay there?" He resumed reading, not bothering to make eye contact anymore.

"You don't answer a question with another question." Alfred bluntly pointed out.

"What do you want? Get on with it, won't you?"

"I asked you if you were mad at me."

"I will be, if you continue asking me pointless questions instead of resting up like I asked you to in the first place."

"I'm feeling better, by the way. Thanks." He sat down opposite to Arthur, who had taken his feet off the chair. He grinned.

Arthur groaned and rolled his eyes. Why must he do exactly the opposite of what I say each and every time? "Go get the thermometer." He pointed out the room.

"But I'm fine now!"

"Get it!" He had a stern look on his face.

"All right, all right!" he defensively raised his hands up in mock surrender. Arthur smirked; Alfred was being his stubborn self, stubborn like his entire life. It made him feel nostalgia, and it was the little Alfred he once took care of, all over again. He felt needed in some way, which he had to nurse Alfred back to health.

He sighed and finished the chapter, turning his attention to Alfred who had appeared on the chair opposite him holding a thermometer. "Now put it in your mouth."

Alfred obliged, popping the digital thermometer in his mouth.

"Y' woul'n' b'li've m', I al'eady said 'm 'kay!" He tried to talk.

"Shut up, you sound like Berwald." He laughed and Alfred pouted.

The tiny device beeped momentarily, and Arthur peered to check the display.

"Thirty-seven point five." Nearly better, he thought.

"Ninety-nine point five or something." he mentally tried to convert it.

"See?" Alfred defiantly said.

"It might come back, though, so take it easy for now." he said. Alfred grinned at him, proud for being able to recover so quickly.

"Do you want something to eat, or perhaps a cup of tea?" Arthur offered.

Based on experience, Alfred knew anything in Arthur's fridge was potentially lethal and indigestible by the normal human stomach. "N-No thanks... Maybe some tea would do."  
Alfred knew that tea was the only thing Arthur never failed at making. “…unless you have some coffee?” He inquired hopefully.

“No coffee here. Tea it is, then.” Arthur gave a quick nod and heated more water for Alfred. Alfred is asking for tea? What has the world come to? He chuckled to himself. He took another cup and saucer and a teabag. The phone attached to the kitchen wall rang.

"I'll get that." Alfred stood up, and before Arthur could say anything, he had picked up the receiver.

"Kirkland residence." He said to the person on the other line.

"Alfred? What're you doing there?" The other person said. “I hope it’s not anything I’m thinking of right now.” He chuckles.

"Oh, hey Matt." he smiled, as he heard that familiar voice of his brother. “It’s nothing, god, I paid him a visit. Don’t over-analyse.”

In the background, voices saying things like, ' _Mon cher…_ ' and 'Oh, that chick is so cute!' and 'Oi, don't touch Gilbird!' and 'Will you bastards stop shouting?' can be heard.

"Papa invited me and Gilbert and Lovino and Antonio to his place for dinner. It was originally supposed to be a Bad Touch Trio thing, but they decided to throw me and Lovino into  
it." Matthew laughed, 'Papa' referring to Francis.

"So why did you call, Matt?" Alfred leaned against the wall.

"Oh, we were supposed to wish Arthur a belated happy birthday, is he there?"

"Yeah, wait, lemme get him for you." he turned to Arthur and called him.

"Oh, hey Matt. How are you?" Arthur said as he received the receiver from Alfred.

"Thank you." He said with a smile, and then it was suddenly replaced with a scowl. Alfred watched him in mild amusement.

"God, frog, do you have to be such a bloody arse? I was talking to Matthew!" he said loudly. Alfred was standing there, watching him yell at the person on the other end, until the  
kettle gave a shrill whistle. He helped himself to the tea and let it cool.

"Yeah, yeah sure. Give my love to everyone." he returned the receiver to Alfred, thinking he would talk to Matthew more.

"Dear _Angleterre_ told me to give my _l'amour_ to everyone!" Francis' voice was in his ear all of a sudden. _Francis still called or referred to Arthur as_ Angleterre _from time to time and me as_ Amerique. _But he would always, always call Matthew as_ Matthieu. _It's the same; just the accent makes it sound different. I wonder why..._ Alfred thought. He didn't know he was spacing out again, but he snapped out of it just in time.

"Haha. Bye Francis, talk to you later." He laughed, effectively making the other person go away.

"Oh, _mon Amerique_! Is that you in Arthur's house? My, my, what might you be doing there? _Adieu_ then! Hope to hear from you soon, _mon ami_!" The line on the other end went dead.

Alfred put the receiver back in place and turned around to find Arthur's head buried in the book again.

"What are you reading there, anyway, Arthur?"

"The Hunger Games."

"What is it about?"

"Some new government in North America sets up an annual game where these kids have to kill each other for survival and for the glory of their district." he said, barely looking up.

"Oh. What part are you in now?" Alfred was merely trying to keep up the conversation. He’s never really been into reading, and if he was, it was just the daily paper or some funny thing on the Internet.

"The main character, Katniss, saw her ally in the arena get killed by another tribute or competitor. Now, would you please, drink your tea and keep quiet? I know you’re not even remotely interested." Arthur said irritably.

"Haha, okay." He took a sip of his tea, nearly gagging in the taste. He never liked tea, but he figured this was the only drink Arthur had in his cupboard. He caught a glimpse of instant coffee, though. He must have forgotten it was there, after such a long time of paying it no mind. Still, he drank it to not hurt Arthur's feelings. No use telling him now.

Arthur stood up from his chair and left the dining room-slash-kitchen, closed book under his arm.

Alfred finished his tea, his face glowing with triumph after finishing a tastebud-wrecking cup of Earl Grey tea. He didn't even put sugar or cream, which made him really proud.

Arthur sat down in the living room, glancing at the clock. It was six twenty-nine in the evening and it was still raining. He looked out of the window, silence haunted the room. It  
was unnerving, neither Arthur nor he were saying a word. Arthur was staring into the blank telly, perhaps waiting for Alfred to say something.

"A-Arthur, do you want me to leave now...?" Alfred said. His voice was anxious and barely audible. He hoped Arthur would not snap at him. "It's just that you seem so disturbed by  
my presence, so I think I should…"

"I said nothing of the sort. It's up to you." he merely said. He didn't look at Alfred.

"I... I think I'm just disturbing your peace... I'll just go back."

"Yeah, go back using what? It'll be the same all over again, you collapsing in the middle of the park, drenched in the rain." Arthur scoffed, his expression stony, but inside, a tiny  
voice in him was saying, _Will you leave me again, Alfred? Will you leave me, like you left me that day in the rain? Is that how much you want to get away from me?_ It was irrational whining. Why can’t he just get rid of that part of him?

He knew these thoughts were silly and pointless, but he can't help thinking like that. He had grown used to be the one doing the leaving, that, Alfred leaving him, was something that hurt more than it was supposed to.

He didn't hear Alfred's comeback on his last witty remark. He suddenly just said, "Don't go Alfred."

"Wha—?" he was confused.

"Don't leave me..." his voice was tiny, like on that day.

"I..."

"I said don't leave me, God damn it!" sobs suddenly racked his body. _That damned git_ , he thought.

"I won't." Alfred approached him and pulled him into a tight embrace. “I’m sorry.”

He wiped his tears away with the back of his hand, calming himself down again.

"You're such a damned idiot..." he weakly said. He bit on his lower lip to keep himself from crying like a sad, miserable idiot again.

"What are you crying about? I'll be alright, if that's what you're worrying about…" Alfred's inability to read the atmosphere prevails, but this time, Arthur was quite thankful for it.

"Nothing." he pulled back. Alfred held his hand. Silence.

"Don't worry, Arthur, I won't leave you. I'll never leave you again. I'm sorry." he silently said after a while and squeezed his hand.

"You better." Arthur turned to Alfred, something between a smirk and a grin caught on his face.

Alfred inched closer to Arthur's lips, Arthur closing his eyes, preparing for a kiss.

He gently pressed his lips against his, a calming wave of relief flooded over him. He didn't feel so alone anymore, Alfred won't leave him again, would he? He placed his elbows on  
Alfred's shoulders, his hands in his hair.

He savoured that kiss Alfred was leading. He went along. Alfred licked Arthur's lip and Arthur gave in, slightly parting his lips to let Alfred's tongue slide in. Arthur was going with the flow, he slid his tongue in Alfred's mouth too, and they were sitting there, content. Alfred's hands were on Arthur's hips, holding him closer. He was leaning forward, making it easier for Arthur. Arthur let out a soft groan and broke the kiss; his hand flew to his nape, looking away, his face red with embarrassment.

"Am I a good kisser, Arthur?" Alfred grinned at him.

"I... I guess..." Arthur didn't admit it, but Alfred was the best kisser out of all the people whose lips had met his. To name a few, Alfred was better than Francis and Antonio. Alfred's kiss was gentle and not demanding. It was calm, relaxed and practiced. Who had he practiced on, though? Arthur thought. He suddenly realized that he minded. It sounded silly, but the feeling won't go away.

"Alfred?"

"Yeah?"

"Am I your first...?" Arthur asked, a blush crawling on his face.

"Kiss? No, unfortunately not." he chuckled. _Unfortunately? Why unfortunately?_

"Oh."

He had experience. It didn't make sense to him, how Alfred was a better kisser, but Arthur had been at it for centuries.

"But... This is my first real kiss, if you know what I mean." Alfred blushed, a somewhat-idiotic, sweet grin on his face.

"Good." Arthur smirked and crashed his lips against Alfred. Alfred gave a funny jolt of surprise. Arthur dominated him; he cupped Alfred's face between his two hands, and kissed him deeper. He slid his tongue in Alfred's mouth without permission, but Alfred didn't seem to mind.

Arthur slowly broke the kiss, and Alfred reluctantly pulled back as well.

"So..." he waited for a reaction.

"Breath-taking." Alfred grinned, a pink tinge on his cheeks.

Undoubtedly, Arthur was better. He had known how to manoeuvre, how to please someone. He'd been at it for centuries.

"Glad to hear it, love." Arthur leaned against him.

"I love you." Alfred buried his face into Arthur's hair, taking in the familiar smell of Arthur mixed with the smell of his shampoo.

"Idiot." he laughed.

"Hey!" he lifted his head defiantly and pouted.

"You know I don't mean it." Arthur laughed even more.

"Oh..." Alfred looked at him in confusion.

"I love you too." Arthur sighed into his chest, rolling his eyes.

Alfred smiled. He already knew. Arthur showed it in his own way and Arthur needn't tell him so.  
________________________________________

**A/N:**

My first one-shot. Stereotypical fluffy USUK. Re-vamped and de-weebed because the A/Ns back there were awful. Also re-worded some parts, added some phrases, the works. Hope you guys like it.


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